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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24837457">The Rogue, The Rat, The Demon, and The Cat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakingSnowWhite/pseuds/WakingSnowWhite'>WakingSnowWhite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Summer of Matilda [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>X-Men - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Don't Have to Know Canon, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Humor, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Some bad language, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trigger Warning: depression</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:21:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24837457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakingSnowWhite/pseuds/WakingSnowWhite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“We are ancient and young, and have a tale to tell<br/>About a journey, fear, and sadness though all will end well.<br/>Gather round darlings, gather round friends,<br/>Gather round all to hear the song that transcends<br/>All verse, all fables, all tragedy, and pain<br/>All works, all smiles, the eternal refrain<br/>Of love. It is love we do speak of.  Oh, love it is near,<br/>Love is the song that these four yearn to hear.<br/>Gather round in haste, we will be here a while<br/>As we impart to you the ordeal of these young lovers’ trial.<br/>Be rewarded, friends, for long remaining where you are at<br/>For this is the tale of The Rogue, The Rat, The Demon, and The Cat.”</i><br/><br/>"As the cliche goes, 'all is fair in love and war.'"</p>
<p>"Yes, but you seem to employ a bit of both, don't you?"</p>
<p>The spirit of love needs to bring together two pairs of unwitting soulmates and her tactics are -shall we say- peculiar and highly-dangerous.  This is going to be a camping trip no one ever forgets... assuming anyone survives.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kitty Pryde/Kurt Wagner, Remy LeBeau/Rogue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Summer of Matilda [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796638</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Rogue, The Rat, The Demon, and The Cat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was originally posted on fanfiction.net.  It has been retooled, re-edited, rewritten, and re-posted here.  Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
 
</p>
<p>On the night it began, Matilda sat at the top of the Eiffel Tower knitting.  It was five minutes until eight, the famous attraction still a few hours away from closing, and still filled with inebriated tourists wishing to see the nighttime cityscape.  None of the late-night patrons exiting the lift to the top floor took notice of the neanimorphic girl sitting on a red checked picnic blanket next to the champagne bar.  Matilda did not look up at the passerby; said passerby never looked at her.  Occasionally, she would reach her little white mug up to the nearby counter and the bartender would refill it with a lovely rosé.  If the bystanders -as well as said bartender- could actually see her, they would most certainly think it strange that a seemingly six-year-old girl was drinking pink wine.<br/>
<br/>
There was a bowl full of small, fresh strawberries that she would reach for occasionally.  There was an empty Ladurée box that had previously contained six chocolate macarons.  Her little white mug read, “i try to act nonchalant but inside i’m actually chalant AF.”  Her briefcase was open wide, as it was housing a mahogany and bronze Victrola that was presently spinning an Édith Piaf record.  Matilda hummed almost in tune with the swelling string music.</p>
<p>
  <i>“Dans le bleu, de toute l’immensité<br/>
Dans le ciel, plus de problèmes<br/>
Mon amour, crois-tu, qu’on s’aime?<br/>
Dieu réunit, ceux qui s’aiment!”<i></i></i>
</p>
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<p>	“Oh, Édith.  No one gets it like you.”  Matilda sighed as she popped another berry into her mouth and sucked the juice off of her index and middle finger with a smacking pop.  She pulled the working thread of yarn over her left index finger, but did not wrap it around her needle.  For a long moment, she stared at the yarn in question, strumming her right pointer finger across the taut thread.  She sniffed the air around her twice before setting her knitting down and then reaching for the Victrola, yanking the needle off of the record.  It was still too loud; she reached into the briefcase and pulled out a pair of plaid earmuffs.  Once the earmuffs covered her ears, the noise ceased, and she could hear the stars.<br/>
<br/>
Matilda stood from her picnic spot, and walked to the railing.  All of Paris was below her as she turned her sight heavenward.  Her gaze saw through the light pollution of the city, beyond the hazy, cloud filled atmosphere, into the immeasurable night sky dotted with stars.  A little smile began to tug the corners of her mouth upwards.  “Something is beginning.” She turned her left hand until her palm faced the stars.  “May I see?”<br/>
<br/>
As the stars filled her vision, Matilda saw past the ocean to another French city on the other side of the world.  It had been roughly eight o’ clock in the evening in Paris, but the stars showed her what was to happen, what was happening, what already happened at ten-thirty p.m. that night in New Orleans.  A lively piano rendition of “In the Night” filled the ears of meandering sightseers and drunken revelers.  A pair of street signs on the corner read Bourbon Street and St. Philip Street.  A weathered sign hung in front of an old building: “Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why am I looking at a tourist trap?”  Her question was answered when one of the bar’s upper level windows popped open and a dark figure emerged.  Undoubtedly male in form, the mysterious individual shimmied across the roof like a scurrying rat, unnoticed by ignorant passerby who walked along the sidewalks below.  While they took no heed of him, he certainly was aware of them, as he artfully ducked and hid while making his way to the roof’s farthest corner.  Gracefully, he dropped a short distance from the roof into the small alley by Lafitte’s where five garbage bins stood.  He dusted himself off in the shadows and then stepped onto the sidewalk, his face finally lit by one of Lafitte’s flickering lanterns.<br/>
<br/>
“My goodness.”  She said as she eyed the entire length of his body.  “That is one tall glass of water.”  His face could have easily graced magazine covers; broad shoulders tapered into a narrow waist denoting a strong and imposing physique.  The lantern light cast strange shadows onto his visage, making his eyes almost look black.  The handsome young man straightened the collar of the trench coat he wore, looked around cautiously, and shoved his hands into his large coat pockets as he walked with a rehearsed casualness around the corner onto St. Phillip Street.  “Summertime in the South and he’s wearing a coat? Curious.”<br/>
<br/>
Before she could ponder the gorgeous yet suspicious Rat any further, Matilda found herself suddenly on a spaceship.  At least, it looked like a spaceship: clean metal walls, clean metal floors, clean metal ceiling, automated sliding doors, a clinical smell.  “Is this the I.S.S.?  Ooh, is it a pair of astronauts again?”<br/>
<br/>
A door slid open and out stepped a tall young-ish man who was wearing a stethoscope and small copper glasses.  “Feet on the ground; not outer space.  Disappointment and sadness.”  Matilda’s feelings of disappointment and sadness were so consuming that it was an even twenty seconds before she noted that the young man in question was covered in blue fur.  Presently, he was leaning against a wall, massaging the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.  He corrected his posture when a door down the hall opened and from it emerged a very pretty young woman with red hair who walked alongside an older, very bald gentleman in a wheelchair.<br/>
<br/>
“How is he?”  The older man asked.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a good news, bad news situation, I am afraid.”<br/>
<br/>
“What’s the good news?”  The redhead looked concernedly through the door at something or someone.<br/>
<br/>
“The good news is that the MRI results were conclusive: he definitely has a concussion.”<br/>
<br/>
Red shook her head.  “How is that good news?”<br/>
<br/>
“It means that my initial diagnosis was correct; it’s good news because I love being right.”  Red raised one eyebrow at Dr. Blue.  “Apologies.  It’s good news because concussions are relatively simple to treat: plenty of bedrest, close observation, no screen-time.”<br/>
<br/>
“So, what’s the bad news then?”<br/>
<br/>
Dr. Blue’s face fell and he sighed.  “The bad news is that he hasn’t woken up.”<br/>
<br/>
Red looked at Baldy.  “That’s not good.”<br/>
<br/>
Baldo did not answer immediately; he was looking at the ground, his mind clearly a thousand miles away.  It took a questioning “Professor?” from the redhead for him to look up and answer, “Pardon me.  You are correct; it is most certainly not good.”  He gazed thoughtfully at Dr. Blue.  “What is to be done, Dr. McCoy?”<br/>
<br/>
“I want to keep a close watch on him tonight, then see how he is in the morning.  Depending on his state, we can discuss our-” Blue McCoy covered his mouth to stifle a yawn.  “-excuse me- our options then.”<br/>
<br/>
“Hank, you look so tired.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m fine.”  He yawned while rubbing sleep from the corners of his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s right, Hank.  You’re of no use to anyone if you exhaust yourself.”<br/>
<br/>
“With all due respect, Professor, extreme exhaustion comes with the territory.”  He smothered another yawn as he pushed his glasses off of his nose to rub his eyes.  “Someone needs to keep a close watch on him, just in case something changes.”<br/>
<br/>
The redhead did something strange then: she cast a sideways glance at the wall.  “Someone will.” She rubbed a hand over Hank’s shoulder.  “It’s almost midnight, Hank.  You should get some sleep.”<br/>
<br/>
“Jean, I-” Jean raised both of her eyebrows and cocked her head.  “Fine.  I’ll go to bed.”<br/>
<br/>
Jean smiled smugly and said, “I love being right.”<br/>
<br/>
Hank shyly ducked his head to stifle a small laugh.  “I’m sleeping in my lab.”<br/>
<br/>
Hank and Jean began walking down the long hallway in step with one another.  The supposed Professor lingered behind.  He turned.  If Matilda had been wearing pants, she most certainly would have soiled them: he turned to look directly at <i>her<i>.<br/>
<br/>
“Professor?”<br/>
<br/>
The Professor shook his head in a brief, dismissive manner and then followed down the hall.  Matilda barely had time to process what had just happened when a girl walked out of a wall (the same wall Ms. Jean had been contemplating moments prior).  The girl was teenaged, pretty, and had long brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.  Her ponytail bounced over her shoulders as she looked down the hallway to ensure that she was (mostly) alone.<br/>
<br/>
The girl took a few determined steps towards the door where Dr. McCoy had come from earlier but stopped in the entryway when she saw the “him” and “he” who had been the source of much concern.  Her expression immediately contorted: her eyebrows furrowed slightly, her large brown eyes began to shine, and her full lips parted with a gasp.  “Oh, Kurt.”<br/>
<br/>
It was a jarring experience to go from a sterile, futuristic hospital room to city streets that reeked of piss-brimmed river runoff and cheap Hurricanes, but that just seemed to be how Matilda’s night was meant to go.  She was once more with the Rat, who was no longer on Bourbon Street.  He stood under the substantial limbs of an oak tree, looking intently at a building that was otherwise uninteresting, save for a colorful geometric art installation that sat in front of its entrance.  Above the main doors to the building was a midcentury modern metal sign that read: “Union Passenger Terminal.”<br/>
<br/>
“First he’s sneaking out of a bar; now he’s lurking around a train station?”  The young man was tapping his back heel and was looking up and down the dark street, as though he was being- “What – or who- is chasing you?”<br/>
<br/>
He reached into one of his coat pockets and pulled out a nondescript white envelope full of cash.  Without removing the money from the envelope, he meticulously dragged his thumb across the wad; each bill featured Mr. Franklin.  “That’s a lot of money.  What -pray tell- are you running from, Rat?”  No direct answer came; he merely slipped the envelope back into his coat and then reached into his other pocket for a package of cigarettes (“Tiny bit less sexy now”).  He held the cigarette between his lips as he fished around for his lighter. The small flame that emitted from his lighter illuminated his face clearly.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh.  That wasn’t a trick of light; those are actually his eyes.”  Where the sclerae should have been white, his were as black as obsidian with irises that were bright red.  On anyone else it would have been unsettling, but on him, it only added to his allure.   He took a deep drag off of his cigarette, and was staring at the ground intently when he exhaled a stream of smoke.  His eyes held no emotion and his face was neutral as he looked downward puffing on his cigarette.  Matilda did not have to reach into his thoughts to know what he was thinking about.  “He must have truly stepped in something to entertain the thought of suicide.”<br/>
<br/>
Just as Matilda was questioning why exactly she was observing a very good-looking man who was in obvious trouble, the sound of footsteps interrupted the quiet of the night.  The man tensed and once more reached into his pocket.  There was a figure walking along the pathway from the station’s entrance, one that was darkened by the building’s shadow.  It walked slowly down to the sidewalk, passing the colorful art installation before stopping directly underneath a nearby streetlamp.<br/>
<br/>
Standing beneath the pale fluorescent lamp light was a lovely young woman: a curvy figure most sought a plastic surgeon to attain, beautiful pale skin, and long, chestnut brown, wavy hair that was interrupted by a single white stripe.  Matilda took one look at the girl, grinned broadly, and looked back at the boy.  His whole demeanor had changed: he still stood straight but his eyes were alert in a way she had not seen them prior, and his mouth had dropped open a bit, though his cigarette still managed to cling precariously to his lower lip.  His chest – most concernedly – did not rise and fall.  Matilda looked back at the girl: “Behold the true master thief: she took his breath away.”<br/>
<br/>
Matilda’s smile fell when she took note of the young woman’s countenance: her eyes had squeezed shut and she was rubbing one temple with the side of her hand.  She looked up Loyola Avenue, and then began to rifle through the messenger bag on her shoulder, her sole possession.  Upon reviewing her bag’s contents, she sighed, choked on nothing in her throat, and closed the bag in a huff.  Her eyes were wet and shining, as though at any moment she could burst into tears, but her face never crumpled.<br/>
<br/>
The girl shoved her hands into her pockets and then furrowed her brows in confusion.  The source of said confusion turned out to be a paperback book she removed from her pocket.  For a long moment, she stared at the book’s cover.  Her eyes shut once more and she began frantically shaking her head.  With a short growl, she violently tossed the book into a nearby bush.<br/>
<br/>
She looked to the left and the man inhaled sharply; it looked as though she was looking at him.  Instead, her gaze wandered upwards, towards the New Orleans skyline.  Her face was expressionless save for her eyes: every hurt, every regret, every misery shone in her eyes for all of the world to see.  Her gaze drifted downwards, lingering on the dark oak tree, before she turned to look down Loyola Avenue, towards the river.  A decision was made when she turned her back to the tree and the train station, pulled up the hood of the green jacket she wore (“Coats and jackets in summertime in New Orleans… these two really are meant for each other.”), and began walking into the night towards the river.<br/>
<br/>
The Rat’s eyes did not move from her retreating form.  He watched her walk away for several moments before he made a decision as well.  He flicked what remained of his cigarette to the ground and stomped it under his heel.  He walked over to the art installation and looked into the nearby hedges.  After a moment of searching, he reached down and pulled out the book she had discarded.  It was a paperback romance novel, featuring a beautiful blonde woman in a red dress on a red background, titled <i>A Rogue By Any Other Name<i> by Sarah MacLean. The Rat flipped through the book’s pages before placing it in his own coat pocket, and then followed her path down Loyola Avenue as well.  “Follow that Rogue, Rat.”<br/>
<br/>
Matilda suddenly found herself next to a hospital bed containing a very injured, very blue young man.  Not ‘blue’ as in ‘sad,’ but ‘blue’ as in…<i>blue<i>.  “I have gone over sixteen-hundred years believing that the only blue people in the world were Smurfs and Tobias Fünke; tonight, I have seen two in under an hour.  This must be Kurt.”  He wore a generic cloth hospital gown that did not hide the tail that was limply dangling over the side of the bed. “Oh, I do love a man with a tail.”  This tail was long, blue like the rest of him, thick at its base, thin towards the tip.  The tip flared out and came in like a spade.  “I bet that you’re a cute little demon when you’re not concussed.”<br/>
<br/>
The girl who could walk through walls was still there, standing in the room’s entryway, nervously clutching the tip of her left index finger in her opposite hand.  She worried her full lower lip between her teeth as she walked to the left side of Kurt’s bed.  There was a small, round, black stool near the bed that the young lady sat on.  He looked to be in a deep sleep. He did not stir as she moved closer to inspect the damage done to his face: a black eye, a split lip, and a bandage over part of his forehead.<br/>
<br/>
“God, you look terrible.”  She muttered then shook her head quickly.  “I didn’t mean- I wasn’t talking about-” She squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head, and then looked at him again.  “I’m messing this up.”  Her shoulders sagged defeatedly.  “I don’t know what to say.  Can you even hear me?  I’ve heard coma patients can hear what people say to them.  Are you even in a coma?  If you aren’t in a coma, why aren’t you waking up?”  Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pressed together.  “That’s really crappy if you’re not in a coma.  You’re making everyone worry and-” A defeated sigh escaped her mouth.  “-And I’m making this about me.  Again.”  Her eyes began to shine.  “The only reason you’re here at all is because of…”  One tear creeped out of the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek.  “…why?  Why did you…?”  Another tear.  “After-” She quickly ducked her face into her hands and was still and hushed for a moment save for a few quiet sniffles.  She raised her head and used her right hand to wipe the moisture from her face.  “You look so wrong right now.”  She shook her head emphatically.  “Not like- I didn’t mean like that.  I meant, you’re never… still.  You’re always moving, fidgeting, leaping.  And now you’re just-” She spread apart both of her hands quickly, gesticulating the Demon’s present state.  “It’s wrong that you’re not moving… and it’s completely my fault.”<br/>
<br/>
The girl was silent for a minute as she gazed at his face.  A small smile tugged at her pretty lips.  “You know, I never really noticed before… but your bone structure?”  The girl performed a chef’s kiss.  She then admitted, “I’m not really big on body hair but I got to say that the pointy ears are starting to work for me.”  The smile fell from her face and she looked at his hands.  They only had three large fingers on each hand.  Presently, they rested at his sides.  Slowly, carefully, tentatively, the girl reached for one of his hands and held it in her own hand.  “Come on, Kurt… talk to me, tease me, try to make me laugh.  Just be okay… please.”<br/>
<br/>
The girl bit her lower lip and looked back towards the room’s entryway.  She looked back at the Demon.  She began to move her face down towards his.   When her lips were close to his face, it became obvious that she had been aiming for his cheek.  The moment before her mouth could connect with its intended target, however, the boy’s eyes softly fluttered open and he turned his face unwittingly towards the girl’s downward descent.  His voice was raspy with drowsiness when he entreated, “Kitty?”<br/>
<br/>
Matilda felt quite frustrated to be suddenly looking at the Mississippi River.  “Come on; that was getting interesting!”  Matilda fell quiet when she observed that the young woman from earlier was standing on the banks of the river.  Her expression betrayed nothing but she seemed to be looking at the bright round of white that the moon reflected onto the river’s surface.  The Rat was nowhere to be found.<br/>
<br/>
“How long has she been standing there?”  The Rogue did not move, did not speak, she merely looked across the water with that same haunted look in her eye.  “I thought he was in real trouble, but he’s got nothing on you.  Poor girl, what happened to you?”<br/>
<br/>
The Rogue sighed once more, closed her mouth resolutely, dropped her messenger bag onto the rocks on the bank, and began to walk.  She was close to the Crescent City Connection, the twin bridges that connect New Orleans’ Eastbank and Westbank.  There was construction scaffolding on the bank that ran alongside the bridge’s edge and out over the water.  The girl passed by sleeping construction vehicles on her way to the base of the scaffolding; her face was emotionless as she looked up at the makeshift structure.  “It’ll do.”  She said to herself.<br/>
<br/>
“I have a bad feeling about this.”  Matilda muttered.<br/>
<br/>
There was a series of ladders leading to the top that the Rogue began to climb.  It took her six minutes to reach the top of the structure.  The top was almost level with the bridge.  The trucks that thundered across the bridge made the scaffolding vibrate.  There were rails on the edge that the girl gripped as she walked along.  She stopped walking when she came to the farthest end of the scaffolding and looked down; nothing but water was directly beneath her.<br/>
<br/>
The girl looked down at the river.  “It’ll do.”<br/>
<br/>
“Please don’t.”  Matilda whispered.<br/>
<br/>
The girl gripped the handrail and swung one leg over and then the other.  Her toes were dangling off the edge but she maintained an underhand grip on the rail.<br/>
<br/>
“Please don’t.”<br/>
<br/>
The girl’s chest rose and fell with deep, rapid breaths. She closed her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Please don’t.”<br/>
<br/>
A few tears rolled down her cheeks and she swallowed in her throat.  The girl was motionless for several moments.  One long breath moved over her lips.  She opened her eyes and looked down once more at the water.  Her eyes narrowed resolutely, she took a breath in, and she swung one leg back over the rail.<br/>
<br/>
Matilda’s relief was interrupted by a scuffling noise nearby.  A dark figure was running down the edge of the river carrying the girl’s bag.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey!” The Rogue shouted at the retreating figure which was a mistake.  Her grip on the railing had been tenuous at best; in her haste, she became clumsy and with only leg over the railing, her stance became unsteady, she lost her footing entirely, and was suddenly falling.  A strangled gasp was all that came from her throat.  There was another noise: something heavy and quick bounding along the scaffolding.  The girl’s downward descent towards a watery doom ended abruptly when a male hand closed around her bicep.  She was pulled up a short distance before a second hand reached down to grip her other arm.  A grunt sounded above her as she was hoisted back onto the scaffolding.<br/>
<br/>
“I was wondering where you went.”  Matilda said dryly.<br/>
<br/>
The momentum forced both to collapse onto the scaffolding’s floor as well as causing the girl to fall face forward directly into the chest of her rescuer.  She lifted her face from his pectorals to look at him.  He looked back at her.  Matilda wondered if he was aware that he still had an arm wrapped around her torso, and that his hand was slightly rubbing the girl’s back.<br/>
<br/>
The Rogue broke her gaze with him to look in the direction that the bag-thief ran.  The Rat followed her line of sight, saw the ne’er-do-well in question, and then proceeded to jump off the scaffolding.  His descent to the ground was broken up by one or two strategic swings from the scaffolding’s transoms and ledgers.  He dropped into a forward roll as he reached the ground; as soon as he was on his feet, a corner of his mouth tilted upwards, and he took off running in the same direction as the pickpocket.<br/>
<br/>
When he and the thief were within ten feet of each other, the man did something strange: he ceased running and produced three playing cards from his coat sleeve as though he was an expert magician.  “Curiouser…”  He had the cards fanned between his fingertips when they began to glow and crackle.  With a well-timed swing of his arm, the cards flew through the air to land on the ground just before the thief’s next footfall.  The ground very suddenly exploded, sending rocks, mud, and a very stunned robber flying through the air.  “…and curiouser.”<br/>
<br/>
The thief was sprawled on the ground, groaning loudly when the Rat slowly walked towards him.  The prone thief was a teenage white boy with greasy dark blonde hair.  Mr. Mysterious reached into his pocket yet again and pulled out something small and silver.  The small silver object suddenly expanded into a long staff that he used to reach forward and pluck the young lady’s messenger bag off of the ground.<br/>
<br/>
The younger thief groaned and rolled onto his back.  “Who the fuck you think you are, man-” The man stood above the teen with one hand balancing his staff across his shoulder.  The teenage thief lost all of the color in his face.  “The Gambit.” He sounded both awestruck and fearful of the man before him.  Not another word was exchanged before the teenage boy quickly got to his feet and ran off into the night, empty handed.<br/>
<br/>
“The Gambit” looked quite pleased with himself as he took hold of the girl’s bag and placed his staff back in the confines of his coat.  With practiced fingers, he lifted the bag’s flap to examine its contents.  His smile faded into a frown as he looked at the young woman’s meager possessions: twenty-four dollars in cash, a half-eaten granola bar, two hair-ties, an old model cell phone attached to some fraying earbuds, seven -no, six- well-worn paperback books, and a little green notebook and pencil.  The Rat turned his head a little when he heard footsteps crunching against the rocks.<br/>
<br/>
Matilda very badly wanted to see what happened next, but instead she found herself once more staring at a blue boy and a very anxious ponytail girl.  “It was so exciting back there- wait, did they kiss or not?”<br/>
<br/>
The two young people in question were in more or less the same position they had been in before: the Kitty-Cat’s lips were still dangerously close to the Demon’s.  Her face was embarrassingly red; he just looked tired and confused.  “Kitty…”  His voice was so soft, hoarse, and weak.  “Was ist passiert-” He grunted and pressed a hand to his forehead.<br/>
<br/>
The Cat gently removed his hand from his head so that he would not dislodge his bandage.  She did not let go of his hand and she looked at him.  A radiant smile came across her face.  “Kurt.”  She said his name fondly before she flung her whole body at him.  He grunted in discomfort but wrapped an arm around her nonetheless.  He gave her a few gentle pats to her back.  She raised her face a few inches to look at him.  She beamed once more.  “Take it easy, fuzzy elf.  You’re going to be okay.”<br/>
<br/>
The Cat hugged the Demon once more.  He peered over her shoulder at the ceiling and dazedly muttered, “… ‘fuzzy elf?’”<br/>
<br/>
The girl practically threw herself backwards from the boy and covered her mouth in horror.  “Oh my God, you have a concussion.  I completely forgot.  I’m sorry; I messed-”<br/>
<br/>
“‘Concussion?’”<br/>
<br/>
She nodded.  “That’s what Dr. McCoy said.”<br/>
<br/>
“Wunderbar.”  He said dryly, as he pressed himself back into his bed.  For a few moments, neither said anything.  The Demon began to give the Cat a side-eye, darting up and down over her seated form suspiciously.  “You- you don’t have to sit with me, you know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I do.”<br/>
<br/>
“You do?”<br/>
<br/>
“Dr. McCoy said someone needs to watch you in case you get worse.”<br/>
<br/>
“And Dr. McCoy asked you to watch me?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, he didn’t.”<br/>
<br/>
The Demon looked up at the ceiling for a long moment.  He then asked, “So did Jean or the Professor ask you to-”<br/>
<br/>
“No one asked me to be here.”<br/>
<br/>
“Then why are you here?”<br/>
<br/>
“Because…”  The girl trailed off and looked at his hands.  Then she looked him square in the eye.  “…because I want to be here.”<br/>
<br/>
A soft “oh” escaped the boy’s mouth.  He resumed looking up at the ceiling; she looked down at her hands, folded in her lap.  Finally, he said, “Do you have your laptop?  We could watch something.”<br/>
<br/>
She shook her head.  “Anyway, Dr. McCoy you shouldn’t look at any screens for a while.”<br/>
<br/>
“Really?  He said that?”  The Demon sounded pained.  “This is going to feel like ages.”<br/>
<br/>
They fell into silence once more.  The Cat furrowed her brow and then got an excited little grin on her face.  She reached into the pocket of her shorts and pulled out her phone.<br/>
<br/>
“I thought you said ‘no screens?’”<br/>
<br/>
“I thought we could listen to some music.”  She looked up from her phone.  “You like music, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course.”<br/>
<br/>
“Something soft and easy, not too stimulating.”  Kitty smiled at her phone and pressed something on the screen.  Soft, slow synthesizer music began playing from the tinny speakers on her phone.  “Do you know this song?”<br/>
<br/>
The Demon shook his head.  A female vocalist began to sing and his brow furrowed in distaste.  “Is this-”<br/>
<br/>
“It is.  Don’t be a hater.”  The boy was quiet as he listened to lyrics about coffee at midnight and small talk.  The girl was bobbing her head kind of in time with the music.  Their eyes connected; this is when the Cat raised her arms and began to dance as best as she could while seated.  That is to say, very badly; at one point, she followed up the Rick-roll with a Sprinkler.  The Demon tried his best to keep a straight face, but between the silly grins she kept shooting at him and her lip-syncing, a tiny grin began to grow across his face.  She pointed at him with an expectant glint in her eye; still smiling a little, he closed his eyes, shook his head, and then raised one single, thick finger which he used to bob up and down with the rhythm.<br/>
The girl giggled and they kept dancing together, while she was seated on a very uncomfortable stool and he was sprawled across a thin mattress with severely limited mobility.  </i></i></i></i></i></i></p>
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  <i>“Your shoulders brush<br/>
No proof, one touch<br/>
You felt enough”<i></i></i>
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<p>	Matilda was smiling quite dreamily at the scene before her when she was thrust back to the moonlit river with the Rogue and the Rat.  It was different this time, though; she could still hear the music here.  “Oh, happy day; it’s a musical montage.”<br/>
<br/>
The Rogue was approaching the Rat slowly, her hands clutching her biceps where he had grabbed her earlier.  The Rat turned around slowly, fiddling with her bag as he did so.  By the time he faced her fully, the flap on her bag was closed.  He cocked his head as he obviously contemplated her.  She did her best to keep her expression neutral, though her eyes betrayed a fearful glint.  Neither of them said a word.</p>
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  <i>“And for once, you let go<br/>
Of your fears and your ghosts<br/>
One step, not much, but it said enough”<i></i></i>
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<p>	The left corner of his mouth tilted upwards in a smirk.  He extended her bag out to her; she took it back slowly, deliberately, and placed it across her shoulders and behind her back.  Matilda thought that as soon as the girl got her bag back, she would take off running, but she did not.  She remained where she stood and he likewise made no motions to move either.<br/>
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The Demon and the Cat were still dancing.  He took her hand in his, raised them together as high as he could manage, and she managed a very clumsy spin without leaving her seat.<br/>
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<i>“And so it goes<br/>
You two are dancing in a snow globe, ‘round and ‘round”<i><br/>
<br/>
The Rat leaned forward but she still did not move.  Taller than her, she had to turn her gaze upwards to maintain eye contact.  Both corners of his mouth turned upwards, turning his smirk into just the slightest smile as he reached down and took her left hand into his left hand.  Eyes locked, he raised her hand to his mouth and pressed the slowest, softest kiss to the top of her gloved hand.  Her breath audibly stuttered as he released her hand from his grip.<br/>
<br/>
Neither the Rogue nor the Rat saw the thread that unspooled as their hands withdrew.  If Matilda was able to clap her hands, she would have.  The thread extended from their little fingers and would forever connect their left hands, regardless of any distance that might come between them.  When the threads first form, they are red and this one was no exception.  It was not yet fortified, but that would come with time.</i></i></p>
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  <i>“You can hear it in the silence,<br/>
You can feel it on the way home,<br/>
You can see it with the lights out,<br/>
You are in love, true love”<i></i></i>
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<p>	The Demon’s eyes began to drift shut.  The Cat smiled at him but did not let go of his hand.  As he fell asleep once more, the little smile remained on his face.  She was smiling as well, gently placing his hand to rest on his chest.  Neither of them could see the red thread that now connected their respective little fingers.<br/>
<br/>
The girl paused the music on her phone, and squirmed in a vain attempt to make her seat more comfortable.  She rested one hand over his, and began to absently stroke the fur on his fingers.  “Like velvet.”  She murmured.  “Maybe body hair works for me, after all.”<br/>
<br/>
The Rat grinned once more before giving the Rogue a small salute with only his index and middle fingers before he disappeared into the night.  The girl remained where she stood, face flushed, moving only to press a hand over her heart.  Confirming that her heart did indeed skip a beat, the girl began to smile.  Not a full smile, but a smile nonetheless.<br/>
<br/>
The smile dropped from her face when she clearly remembered her bag.  Frantically, she pulled it around to her front and opened it.  Surprisingly, everything seemed to be just as it was, including the half-eaten granola bar.  The only thing out of place was the plain white envelope that had certainly not been there before.  Confusedly, the girl pulled the envelope out; it was thick and heavy for its size.  Her eyes just about popped from her skull when she saw that it contained what was most likely several thousand dollars.<br/>
<br/>
The Rogue began to frantically look around for that strange and beautiful man; Matilda could not be sure whether the girl wanted to thank him or whether she wished to return the money.  Appearing to accept that she was alone, the girl looked at the money once more.  “Hello.”  She said aloud; Matilda was not sure who she could be talking to.  “Yeah, I’m okay.  Just had a bad night, that’s all.”  She ran a finger across the bills; her finger caught on something that was not cash.  “At least it ended well.”  Matilda was surprised by the strong Southern accent that the girl possessed.  It made her voice soft and melodic.  “Hey, um- I think I might be ready to take you up on that offer.”  Her finger had caught on a blue and white something tucked into the cash; gingerly, she pulled out a playing card without disturbing the bills.  “No, you don’t have to come get me.  I’ll make my own way.  I’d like to take my time, if that’s all right.”<br/>
<br/>
The Rogue flipped the card over: The Queen of Hearts.  A fond grin tugged at her full, pretty lips and a bright pink blush stained her cheeks as she looked at the card.  “I don’t know.  I guess…”  The girl replaced the money in her bag and finally looked up at the moon and the stars.  “… The stars finally aligned.”<br/>
<br/>
With a modest smile on her face, the Rogue walked away from the river back towards the train station.  Unbeknownst to her, the Rat sat quietly observing her from a dark corner midway up the scaffolding.  He hummed with a little grin as he watched her walk away.  Leaning backwards against a pole, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a well-folded computer print-out that he studied impassively; it was a bus ticket that left for Shreveport, Louisiana the following day.<br/>
<br/>
“…Just got to make it to morning.”  The Rat assured himself.<br/>
<br/>
Matilda was shocked to hear him speak with a very strong Cajun accent.  “Just when I thought he couldn’t get sexier.”<br/>
<br/>
The Sexy-Cajun-Rat-Man put the bus ticket away and reached down for a worker’s discarded headlamp that he placed atop his head and switched on.  He pulled something out of his pocket before he pulled off the trench coat, balled it up, and placed it against the pole to pillow his neck and head.  The sudden removal of the oversized outerwear revealed beautifully toned arms and Reba McEntire adorning the black shirt that he wore.  As comfortable as he was ever going to be atop metal scaffolding, he opened the book he had pulled from his coat – <i>A Rogue By Any Other Name<i> – and began to read.<br/>
<br/>
The stars faded from Matilda’s eyes and she was back in Paris.  She looked down and saw her bare feet hovering above the Eiffel Tower’s beacon.  “It seems that I am levitating… and I have lost my shoes.”  She turned her palms downward and gently descended back onto the tower’s top most level.  When her feet connected with solid metal, she removed her earmuffs and fiddled with them between her hands.  Instead of returning to her rosé and knitting, the little love spirit leaned against the railing and gazed out at the city with a dreamy smile on her face.<br/>
<br/>
“Tonight, their stories will begin… are beginning… have already begun.  Do they know that?  Maybe… probably not.”  She rested her chin in the palms of her hands.  “They’re off to a promising start.  I sense something truly epic on the horizon for all of them.”  She stood up straight and shrugged.  “They might not even need my help.  They’ll probably come together on their own.”<br/>
<br/>
Her brows furrowed and she drummed her fingers against the rail.  “Just in case, though, I’ll check up on them in…”  Matilda pulled out a day planner that read on the cover “the magic is in you, babe.”  She opened the book to let it decide on the day and pulled out a quill pen made from a robin’s feather.  “… let’s say a year from now.”  She jotted down “Rogue, Rat, Demon, Cat” on the correct date and put her planner back into her great big pocket of everything.<br/>
<br/>
Once more, Matilda resumed looking at the iconic city.  It truly was spectacular at night.  She looked at the people going about their lives on the sidewalks.  She looked at the tourists getting their selfies atop the Eiffel Tower.  “Can you hear them?”  She looked back across the city, across the ocean, to a country on the other side of the world and she thought about the four young people whose stories were just beginning.  “Can you hear the stars singing?”</i></i></p>
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  <i>“We are ancient and young, and have a tale to tell<br/>
About a journey, fear, and sadness though all will end well.<br/>
Gather round darlings, gather round friends,<br/>
Gather round all to hear the song that transcends<br/>
All verse, all fables, all tragedy, and pain<br/>
All works, all smiles, the eternal refrain<br/>
Of love. It is love we do speak of.  Oh, love it is near,<br/>
Love is the song that these four yearn to hear.<br/>
Gather round in haste, we will be here a while<br/>
As we impart to you the ordeal of these young lovers’ trial.<br/>
Be rewarded, friends, for long remaining where you are at<br/>
For this is the tale of The Rogue, The Rat, The Demon, and The Cat.”<i></i></i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Songs referenced in this chapter include:</p>
<p>Édith Piaf-"Hymne à l'amour"<br/>Professor Longhair-"In the Night"<br/>Taylor Swift- "You Are In Love"</p>
<p>Thank you for reading.  Please leave kudos and/or comment</p></blockquote></div></div>
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